


Straighten Your Posture.

by astrokyle



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bad Parenting, Business Party Au, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Grimmons, Ill add more tags as it goes on, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Panic Attacks, Simmons dad is a piece of shit, Simmons is a nervous wreck, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-06-24 02:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15620733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrokyle/pseuds/astrokyle
Summary: Richard 'Dick' Simmons' father is an important businessman. He hosts parties every Tuesday, parties of which is mandatory for Simmons to attend. There he meets a bunch of.... interesting kids. Kids who get him roped into their parents' conspiracies to save their friends Wash and Carolina.





	1. Richard and Dexter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i dont know why you clicked on this with that shit description, but welcome!

“Posture, Richard.” his father side calls to him, authority seeping in his tone, making Simmons grimace.

He stands up straighter, despite it only being a mere centimeter difference, “Yes, sir.” He adjusts his white gloves for safe measures.

His father shakes another hand, a warm, fake, smile appearing on his face, then moves on to the next one. Simmons nods with a grin of his own as the first guys passes him to enter the main room.

This pattern continues on and on until all the important guests have arrived and his fathers deemed the rest unworthy for a personal welcome. 

The taller man turns to him tugging down his suit to smooth out any imperfections, “Don’t screw this up, try not to socialize, don’t strike up conversation,” he takes a step closer, “if anyone important heads towards you: answer their questions and then excuse yourself.” Theres a hand awkwardly hovering over his shoulder, and then he’s watching his fathers back.

Simmons lets his smile drop, his understanding nods stop, and his shoulders relax. He doesn’t understand why his father insists he comes to each and every one of his business parties. Well, he does know, it’s for appearance sake, and an excuse when a conversation starts to go south for him to rope Simmons over and brag about everything his son has done. How great his image his fathers made for him is.

He pulls at the knot in his tie, swallowing the lump in his throat. When his father finally disappears in the crowd he makes his way to the blocked hallways. He has to slide past a lot of people, mainly his fathers age, but a few around the same as him, some even younger. These events are always large and crowded. He ducks past people he knows will stop and talk, and finally, finally arrives at the red ribbon blockade. 

He quickly slips into the hall, hoping he was unseen, but having mastered the technique dozens of parties ago, he knows not to panic and look back. He finds an empty room, a moderately sized supply closet. Brooms lay against the wall, next to shelves of toilet paper, windex, and other chemicals. 

The room is a mess, and quite frankly simmons is not getting anywhere near the floor that looks like it’s never been mopped in its lifetime. Thankfully there’s a stack of chairs in the corner. He lifts the top one off the bunch and sets it on the cleanest section of floor he can find. After ripping open a new packaging of paper towels, he lies them across the butt of the seat.

He sighs when he finally sits. it’s a little shakier than he’d like to admit. He’s careful not to run his hands through his hair, instead they run across his face, rub into his temples, rest on the edge on his hairline just twitching to pull at slicked back red.

Instead he tugs at his suit, unbuttoning the outer layer and ripping his shirt out of his pants. He could always smooth out creases. The already lose knot of his tie his pulled down further.

A few minutes later, full of more frustrated movements, the door handle jiggles and simmons nearly has a heart attack. Was father here? How did he find him? He retches his hands from his face, placing them in his lap, his back going ram-rod straight. 

When the door opens Simmons feels like he’s going to throw up, his hands are clenching his pressed pants, eye cast downward, lulling over fabric on his thighs.

“Woah dude, you look like you just had an intense one.” the boy steps in fully, the door clicking shut behind him. 

There’s a small smirk on his lips when Simmons looks up. It falls when their eyes meet, “or not.” there’s a moment of silence, the other boy shuffles towards him, “you.. okay?”

the red head nods roughly, not trusting his voice. It stops the other boy in his tracks, he eyes Simmons defensive position, “Okay, im just gonna go... over there.” 

Simmons watches as he walks away, there’s a messy name scribbled on the tag attached to his shirt it’s to far and highly illegible to read. He reaches the other side of the room, and moves to sit down on the floor. Simmons glances down and physically winces at the state of the ground. 

seriously this is a place of business, why are the floors in this kind of state.

A small pony tail whips his way, “Whats wrong?”

Simmons shakes his head, but can’t help his eyes falling back to the ground, “You’re gonna sit on...” he falls silent, gesturing softly beneath the boy.

He looks down, “Eh, it’s not that bad, my pants ‘il get a little dirty but,” he shrugs.

“But, it’s gross.” 

The boy stares at him for a moment before catching his eye, a small smile pulling at his lips. He begins to slowly sit down, readying his hand to support his fall.

Simmons watches as his hand gets threateningly close to a pile of what looks like chewed up gum, “Stop, stop!” he cries standing from his own seat, he grips on the boy’s arm and tugs him back up. Or, tries to at least.

The long haired boy tugs him back, sending them toppling to the floor. Simmons shrieks, bringing his hands up to catch his fall, ending on his hands and knees.

He hears a fit of laughter to his left, he looks over to see the boy, laid a few inches from his hands. From here he can see the name tag, a messy ‘Dexter Grif’ in the middle of it. Dexters sprawled across the floor, clutching his side in laughter, “You shoulda’ seen your face! Oh god!”

Simmons can feel the dirt on his hands, see it as he turns them over. Dirt on his hands means dirt on his pants. Dirt on his pants means— oh god. He lurches up, getting to his feet faster than he ever thought he could move. 

“Dude,” Simmons is vaguely aware that Dexter is calling out for him, moving to stand, reaching out for him. 

He rushes to the door, the only thought on his mind is get to the bathroom, and scrub this stain out of his fucking pants.

The handle doesn’t budge, no matter how much Simmons jiggles and shoves, the door doesn’t open. He lets out a harsh breath hitting the handle, stinging his hand.

“-de, Dude!” there’s a hand on his shoulder, “Hey nerd–“

“Don’t—“ he spins in his heel grabbing onto Dexters hands, “dont call me that, fatass.”

The boy splutters, “wh- wha- i- I am not fat!” 

“Look, i- i have to get out, right now, my dad-,” he swallows, “my dad is probably wondering where I am.” he takes in a large breath, finding his eyes stuck on dexters, and he when he goes to exhale, he can’t. he can feel his eyes starting to water. 

‘fucking pansy, i’d be better off with a girl for a son.’

he closes his eyes, finally managing breathe out, although it’s more of a sob than anything. He hates the sound of it. in front of him he can hear a soft chant of whispered ‘okay, okay ,okay, okay, okay’. 

Then there’s silence and Simmons readies himself for the worst. an insult, a punch, screams. 

“Hey,” a hand grasps his upper arm, “It’s okay, calm down..” there’s a light pull near his shoulder, the fabric of his blazer unfolding, “..Richard, you’re okay.”

Dick shakes his head and croaks out, “Simmons.”

Another hand clasps on his other arm, “What?”

it’s oddly gently and simmons finds himself opening his eyes again. They meet a warm brown, the middle black a little bigger in circumference, the light in the closet being much dimmer than in the main room. There also full of worry and concern and— “Call me Simmons.”

Suddenly there’s a full blast smile in his face, “Okay, Simmons.”

Simmons finds himself smiling back, reaching a hand up to wipe at his cheek, Dexter drops his hands from the redhead, “Than-“

“-But!” Dexter watches as Simmons face falls and hurries to continue, “You have to call me grif.” the smiles back and Grif can’t keep his own smile from growing even bigger, “Dexter sounds far too Hawaiian.”

“You’re from Hawaii?”

Grif nods in a lazy enthusiasm, “Yeah! I moved here about a month ago though.” there’s a slight fall in his voice, Grif obviously loved Hawaii. Simmons can’t help but wonder why he moved here, cold and rainy Seattle. 

so, he asks, “Why did you move?”

Grifs face goes panicked for a moment, then his eyebrows furrow, “My mom’s business,” his hands comes to swipe back the too short hairs falling from his hair-tie, “better opportunities.”

The taller boy drops the subject, despite his uncertainties on the matter, and grif looks physically relieved. 

There’s a moment where they just look at each other, scanning each other’s slightly panic ridden faces. Simmons has definitely calmed down, but the more milliseconds that pass by, the more nerves that return. 

“Hey,” Simmons jumps at the voice, his eyes finally falling from the hawaiians, “Lemme see your phone.” Grif makes a grabby gesture. 

Simmons frowns, shaking his head, “What, no, im not giving you my phone.” His father would kill him if he ‘lost’ another one. 

“I just need to text my sister.” and yeah right, like Simmons hasn’t heard that one before.

“Just use your own.”

“I forgot mine, it’s probably somewhere near all the fancy food.” and again, heard it.

Simmons doesn’t know whether its the look on his face, or Grifs great common sense that just knew he was planning on shutting him down again. Just as he goes to speak, the boy cuts him off, “Look, you wanna get out don’t you?”

The question makes him clamp his mouth shut, the insult on the tip of his tongue swallowed, ready to listen. He nods hesitantly. 

“I’m just gonna text my sister to unlock the door, not look at your weird nerd porn or anything.” At that he blushes, stumbling to pull out his phone, because despite the comment, it’s a smart idea. 

He unlocks it and hands it to Grif, who takes it wordlessly and starts punching in numbers, and then letters.

Surprisingly, he hears his phone vibrate not even seconds later. Many expressions fall over the boys face as he goes to reply, and by the amount his thumbs are moving Simmons can tell he’s having a full fledged conversation with this person.

Whatever gets him out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> words: 1763
> 
> thank you for reading!  
> feedback is appreciated <3


	2. Kai and Tucker.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kai and Tucker exist now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> simmons is a hot mess okay  
> i promise he gets better guys <3

The door opens not even ten minutes later. It’s sudden, aggressive, and Simmons skin jumps, when the handle slams into the dirty wall. Bright light pools into the room, a short silhouette following in after it.

It’s a younger girl who slides up and leans against the frame, bare arms dressed with bracelets at the wrist. Her dark hair is shaved on one side, full curls falling from other. Simmons scans down confused, a yellow dress and vibrant purple converse? “Hey bro! Finally coming out of the closet, I see.”

Simmons stress levels instantly skyrocket. She’s blocking the door, her voice a vicious bark, smirk tugging at her lips. Her eyes are squinted as if she’s judging him. There’s no way to get past her, she looks like she’d beat him up without a second thought if he even tried. Her presence is overwhelming.

He looks quickly over to Grif, who’s staring at his own sister with a sneer, “Excuse me Miss ‘My-first-kiss-was-a-badass-emo-blonde’.”

First kiss? He’s only 15.. should Simmons have had one of those already? Does he even want one? Who would he even kiss? His father wants him to date pretty, wealthy, influential girl. He supposes he’d have to kiss her. The thought brings a sour taste to his mouth. 

The girl waves her hand in a dismissive manner. “Yeah, yeah.” Simmons watches as her eyes slide over to him, his instantly shift to the blue bottle of windex on his left. “Who’s the nerd?”

He’s swallowing and then snapping his mouth open to defend himself out of habit, but he can’t. He throat feels full, like he just swallowed his own tongue. 

He wants to tell her he’s not a nerd. That his name is Simmons and he’s really like to get past her, right now. He presses his lips back together, closing his eyes tight. _Why?_ Why can’t he say these 3 simple things? He tilts his head down, hands clenching on their own accord. He can hear himself breathing in and out, it sounds loud. Too loud. Can they hear it? He hates that he gets worked up so easily.

A hand falls on his shoulder, squeezing gently. He jerks at the contact, “This is Simmons.” 

There’s a beat of silence, his breath begins to even out, the warm hand on his shoulder still present. Its grounding.

“Hiya Simmons.” It sounds more like a question to him, but he’ll roll with it.

When he looks back up, the girls hand is at the end of a wave, her face scrunched up in confusion. She’s standing up now, a few inches in front of the doorway. He can see the exit. Simmons simply nods, his face going red, heartbeat hammering uncomfortably in his chest. 

“Right.” After standing awkwardly for 10 seconds, he watches as her face morphs into determination and she starts marching her way to him. He stutters back, Grifs hand falling from his shoulder and meets the wall behind him.

She stops several inches away and places her hand out. “I’m Kaikaina.” Her head gestures down to her hand when he does nothing but stare. 

“Kai stop teasing him.” 

She turns her head to glare, “I’m not teasing him, I’m trying to shake his hand, isn’t that what your suppose to do at these fancy fuck parties?” 

“He obviously doesn’t want to!”

Simmons hand shoots out before he can stop himself. The metal from her index ring cold against his much paler skin. 

She smiles, throwing their hands up and down, “Nice to meet ya Simmons.” Then she’s lets go and he sees a hint of tongue before her face is fully out of sight, “See! He’s perfectly fine! Just a little shy is all.”

Grif catches his eye and Simmons nods shakily, giving him a weak smile. He just needs a breath of fresh air, it starting to get hot in the poorly lit room. “Im-” It comes out raspy, he falters when Kai turns to look at him, to hear what he has to say. 

He focuses purely on Grif, avoiding Kai’s eye, doing his best to persist on, “I need to leave, Thanks for..” _calming me down? stopping my panic attack?_ ,”..helping me get out.” He says it a little more intense then would probably seem normal, he just hopes Grif knows he is entirely grateful.

“No problem dude!” he stuffs his hands in his pockets, the sleeves of his shirt bunch in a way that looks very awkward, Simmons winces, “I’d help you get out of the closest anytime.”

Kai snickers and Simmons ignores it, nervously shuffling along the wall, careful to not actually touch the dirt soaked walls, stepping forward only when he’s sure hes not going to brush by either of the pairs arms. From then, its long strides, hurriedly towards the door and around the corner. 

“Wait!” he stops in his step, a flurry of footsteps behind him, “Were all going to the same place,” Kai walks up next to him, “Why not go together?”

“Actually,” He turns watching as Grif points his thumb back towards the room. “I was planning on staying here.” There go his plans of coming back after checking in with his father. He’d have to find another room, “Gonna take a fat nap.”

“Grif, you know what mom said.” 

“Mom isn’t here, now is she?” 

“Doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have ears.” 

“You’d really snitch on me?” Kai nods once, “What happened to snitches get stitches?” 

She snorts. “Stitches aren’t that bad, plus they leave really cool scars.” Suddenly, there's a loud gasp in his ear and an elbow shoving towards his nose, “Wanna see?! Look, Look- I got this one, when Grif pushed me off the top bunk-”

“It was my bed!”

“-and this one-” she picks her leg up, hopping on one foot to point at her shin where a long scar runs across, “I got from a knife fight.” Her eyes light up, a large smile running over at Simmons shocked expression. Her laugh bubbles out not even two seconds later, “Im just joking with you man-”

“She tried jumping over the fence and caught her leg.”

“Hey! I was going to tell him!” 

“Too slow, bitch.”

“Asshat!”

“Cockbite!”

With all the attention off him, it’s no sweat to let his shoulders fall, just watch the siblings bicker. Its nice. The hint of a smile on Kai's face, despite her anger. Grifs lighthearted smirk. The inside jokes. Simmons is an only child. He never got to experience any of that. His father a overbearing weight of pressure and expectation. All his focus was singled onto him and him alone. He's never gotten to playfully batter with a brother, or argue with a sister. It was all ‘Yes, sir’ and ‘No, sir’. 

“Woah, what’s with the smile?” Simmons knows Grifs talking to him. He can feel he’s cheeks hurting, his nose scrunched. Holding back a laugh and simply shakes his head. He notices Grif’s own lips turning upward, “Whatever, nerd.”

The name doesn’t bother Simmons, he knows it's not malicious. For once, he feels.. fine. Standing in this echoey hallway with two complete strangers, its- its easy. Nothing he’s ever done has felt as effortless as this.

“Kai’ina! Grif!” Turning around he sees a another boy, roughly the same height as Grif rushing towards him. There's no tag on his shirt, if fact he has no blazer on at all, only a button up and aqua(cyan?) tie.

“Tucker?” 

“I thought I heard you guys.” He stops just to the right of Simmons, “You guys are really loud by the way, like pornstar loud.”

Simmons grimaces as Grif grunts, disgust clear in his voice, “Tucker, no.”

“Incest aside-”

“Tucker, Stop-”

“What are you guys even doing back here, they are doing the first round of speeches soon.”

“W-What?” What time was it? He slides his phone from his pocket, heat draining from his face as he reads the time. _3:36._ Speeches start at 4, he still has dirt in his pants, and his shirt- He looks down, it’s half tucked in, half falling out, the bottom button complete undone. “I have to go.”

Why does he feel like his life is a constant state of panic? As soon as he reaches the calm, his storm starts right away. He’s turning and running before any of them can say anything. He are feet heavy against the floor, the small heel of his shoe making a thundering noise against the floor. By the time he’s reached the end of the hall he hears questions calling behind him, but he just makes a sharp turn and rushes in the bathroom. 

Only once he’s got a bunch of wet paper towels rubbing at the knees of his pants does he realize the cleaning supplies in the closet may have been more useful than the freezing water of the motion detected sink. 

He throws them in the trash and slumps at the mirror. His fingers shake pushing the button through the loop. When he finally stumbles it in, he tucks the shirt back into his pants and pulls out his tie.

It doesn't want to put it back on. Its tight and uncomfortable. It makes the top clasp on his shirt dig into his neck. 

He slides it on anyway, tightening it to the point where it he feels it press against the base of his throat. No one will notice the stains right? He looks down at his phone. _3:42._ Fuck. Hes screwed. He exhales loudly. 

“Simmons are you in here?” 

Maybe if he stays quiet. Simmons doesn’t need help. He never has, he’s always managed. “Yeah.” Fuck. “I’m in here.” 

“Oh thank god,” Grif pokes his head back outside, “He’s in here!” Then, Grif is rushing in looking him up and down, “You ran away out of nowhere, dude what happened? You good?” 

“Yeah, i’m fine.” At grifs blank stare he quickly goes to continue, “I just don’t like dirt, and i have to go onstage during the speeches and-”

“Woah, woah, woah! Hold on,” he raises his hands, efficiently silencing Simmons, Tucker and Kai walk in behind him as he goes to finish, “You’re givin’ a speech? You’re like, what? 12?” 

Simmons frowns confused, “12? What, no Im 15. Also no, i’m not giving a speech.” 

“Oooh 15, that’s only a one year difference Grif!” He pushes at Tucker with furrowed brows when Tucker nudges him twice on the arm. 

“Then why would you be going on stage?” 

Simmons looks to Kai, “M-my father is the.. host of this whole organization-” he waves his hands around lightly.

“Yes, but you’re 15. Why would you be going up in front of all those people?” asks Grif.

Simmons shrugs, “I dunno, I guess he just likes me up there with him.” He likes people to know how much of a ‘better father’ he is, how outstanding and extravagant his son is, “Look I have to go onstage soon, so could you please just.” He doesn’t finish the question. He doesn’t know how.

Grif frowns, staring at Simmons with a complentative look. What is that? Why is he doing that? The hawaiian breaks his gaze, glancing down to Simmons knees, “What if we get you new pants?” 

“The closest store is like seven miles away, what do you mean get new pants?” Why do you even care about my ‘random tick for cleanliness.’ 

“You could just switch pants.” 

“Thanks, but I dont think were the same siz-”

“Not me, you fucking asshole.”

Simmons feels himself smiling, “Then who, fatass?” 

Grif looks surprised and Simmons smile turns into a smirk, “Tucker, take your pants off.”

“What, no!” 

Simmons looks at Tucker, that’s not going to work. “He’s too short.” His father will definitely notice if his ankles are on show for the whole world to see. Not to mention they’re also a slightly lighter color. 

Kai butts in, “Jay was wearing black,” she shrugs, “He’s pretty tall.”

“Someone call Michael.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word: 2002
> 
> Thank you for reading!!   
> Feedback is Appreciated. <3 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed<3  
> i felt like this chapter was a little fast, and maybe was over written in some parts? but also underwritten in others?


	3. Caboose, Church, and Wash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speeeeeechessss >:(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, uh, i tried.
> 
> dialogue heavy like usual.

“Oh, hey guys!!” The guy that rounds the corner is smiling his ass off, to say the least. Both rows of teeth shine bright and his tan cheeks smush up to show off his two dots of dimples. He waves, one hand raised in the air and the other clamped around the guy that follows behind him. “I brought Leonard with me!”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Riiiight.” The hand that was waving grips his chin. Nodding, he smiles again, “Sorry, Church.” The boy gasps, “Ah! You must be Simon!”

Suddenly his face is in the slightly taller boys hold. He’s being pulled off the wall he was leaning on, out of the corner on the room. Into the center of the room he stumbles, everyone's expressions daring him to say something.

“Simmons.”

“Cinnamon?” The warmth on his face pulls away, “Grif are you hungry _again_?”

“Dammit Michael, No-”

“Caboose!”

 “What?”

“If Church gets a cool nickname then I get one too.”

Grif opens his mouth and Simmons can see the exact moment he gives up on whatever words he was going to spew. His fingers run over his eyebrows and he sighs, “Alright Caboose. That-” He points to the redhead, and Simmons feels himself jerking his head quickly when the brunette meets his eye, “-Is Simmons. Not cinnamon, Simmmmmons.”

“Ohhh, Hi Simmons! Kai told me so much about you!”

She just met him, what could she have possibly told the other boy? Despite the drop in his stomach, It doesn’t seem like he’s gonna find out. Kai is stepping forward, setting her hand on Caboose’s forearm, “Right! We need to borrow your pants.”

Pants. Right. Simmons had completely forgotten. Somewhere along the line, in those measly three minutes of waiting, the group of kids had distracted him enough to put the butterflies at ease. But now they’re back, racing around the pit of his stomach, through his chest and playing tag behind his eyes.

He hears Caboose agree heartily before starting to shuck off his pants. A burst of protests arise from Tucker, Grif, and Church(and Simmons in his own heart). To which the male laughs, “We’re all friends aren’t we?”

“Speak for yourself,” Church responds, but he doesn’t stop Caboose as he continues his previous actions. No one does.

The fabric plops in his arms a few seconds later, “I hope you enjoy your hat!”

“Hat?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Grif is tugging him up before his pants donator can reply, pushing him towards the handicap stall, “We can dissect Caboose’s mind later, but right now you need to change.”

He’s right. He locks eyes and nods at Grif before closing the door. 

He switches pants all too aware of the rustling he’s making, the snap of his waistband when he finally takes off his shoes. Michael’s pants themself are a little baggy, so he pulls up his pants up higher than he normally would, just so that they don’t touch the ground. When he puts his shoes back on and tucks in his shirt, he looks relatively the same.

He checks his phone. _3:53_. His father likes him to be there 15 minutes early. That’s over halfway late. At the very least he’ll still going to make it there before the introduction.

The door creaks on his way out, the group turning to stare as he walks out. He lowers his head, looking for the dark dress shoes he heard clack when they first walked through the bathroom door. He hands the boy his own dirtied pants, “Thanks." 

“Mmmm, don’t mention it!”

Simmons leaves it at that. He should really be rushing to the stage right now. But he _really_ doesn’t want to go. The thought of his father’s angry face, the harsh words he’ll lecture in his ears. He holds his breath and smiles to the best of his ability. His feet hammer along the floor, a shaky hand brushing hair behind his ear, even though there’s nothing there to pull back.

He walks out the door without a word, walking faster as he rounds the corner, running as he gets a few feet down the hallway. The nerves do nothing for the sudden onslaught of cold racing down his body.

This whole situation seems familiar.

When he arrives at the main room his father jerks him into the room just before the stage, it plucks the left side of his shirt out of his pants, “Where have you been?”

Simmons goes dead silent the weight in his stomach dropping further than it has all night. It roots his feet to the ground, wretches his teeth into his bottom lip. Neck bending uncomfortably, he stares up, his fathers figure blocking the harsh stage light from his eyes.

“I asked you a question!”

“S-someone was conversing with me on the o-” he swallows, lightly gesturing towards the door, “on the other side of the room, I didn’t want to be rude and leave mid-conversation.”

“Who?”

“W-who?” 

“Yeah! Who were you talking too?”

Simmons wills his hands to stay by his side, to not pull at the collar of his button-up. “Uh- Mrs- Mrs. Grif. I was talking with Mrs. Grif, she’s.. new here.”

“What does she do?”

“What does she do?” Simmons silently curses himself, he’s repeating his father's words too much again. “She’s in the entertainment business?”

The man’s lip curls, “Don’t be late again,” he pivots, hand grazing the stair railing as he steps up two at a time,  “Especially not for someone as unimportant as that.” 

His father's smile lights up as soon as he walks up the final step. Golden light shines on his stark black attire, reflects off the deep brown of his remaining hair. He begins spewing the usual bullshit. Simmons has no time to relax though. He gathers the tail of his top back where it goes and readies himself to follow in his father's suit.

“And now, I’d like to bring out my son,” he grins at Simmons, motioning him to join, “Ah! There he is! My boy.” An arm rests against his upper back, crushing him into the solid force of his father side, he smiles harder to keep himself from wincing. “He’s only a freshman and he’s already on his way for valedictorian.” he laughs over exaggeratedly, “We are planning on bringing him in as our youngest branch manager- to get him ready to take over the family business later on, of course.”

The indent on his father cheek may wring the hearts of the audience; but his eyes scream look at ‘how much better my son is than yours,’ and that makes his heart wring more than any smile his father may give him. Richard laughs again, “Dick please hand me the first envelope.”

Simmons nods silently, walking to the side of the podium his father put him on and hands off the first name. He’s just a pawn. Richard recites name and the big number they pulled in for the week, everyone claps, and they move on to the next one. Anyone could be doing this right now, as long as they made his father look good, it didn’t matter the person.

While his father is reading off the fifth note Simmons looks up into the crowd for the first time. Everyone’s staring up at them. Some trained on him; though, none giving him friendly or pleasant faces, only jealousy and people trying to make themselves feel better by nitpicking at whatever flaws they can find- most are on the charismatic voice to his right. His fingers twitch behind his back as the crowd chuckles at something his father said.

He sees the group of kids from earlier in the far end of the room, the boy that lent him the pants- Caboose- flails his arms dramatically when he sees him looking. Kai joins him, waving as well, just as big, though much more controlled. Tuckers throws a thumbs up, Church is nodding, and Grif purely smiles, blinking right at him.

Simmons' chest swells and he finds his cheeks flaring up, eyes prickling like the waterworks are going to fall at any second. Emotions suddenly overflowing. Rising to the tip of his glass, ready to rush and pour onto the floor at any time. He scurries to grab the next name, but there’s none left.

“Looks like that’s it! Thank you for your help son-” Simmons takes that as his cue to leave, stumbling down the stairs “And thank you all for coming. Please en-”

Why is crying? Why is Simmons wiping at the tears running down his cheeks? All they did was wave. Simmons laughs. It comes out croaky and intercepted with sobs at every inhale. Is Simmons seriously that pathetic that he cries at the first sign of friendliness?

Simmons cleans himself up for what seems the hundredth time today and walks back out to the party. The speech’s final words are done; though the party doesn’t end until 6, at least for Simmons. People usually begin to trickle out around 5. For now, everyone is back to socializing. The first round of food is being covered back up, the dozen rented tables being prepared for the next wave.

The group of friendly faces is sat in the back corner of the room, near the kitchen doors and large indented window. Kai is standing on the sill, one arm pressed against the glass and the other hovered above her eyes. She looks around the room before landing on the redhead. He smiles wearily in return. She beckons for him to come over.

She must want him there, right? What about everyone else? He doesn’t want to intrude on their.. friendship if they don’t want him there. 

“Nerd! Are you- over h- or are you- ona- make us come to you?”

Simmons can barely make out what he’s saying over the noise but he understands enough to know at least two out of the five want him there. He knows he wants to be there. Gathering his courage he zooms across the room before he can wuss out. 

“Hi.” It comes out his a rush, his lungs falling out with the single word.

“You were so cool up there Simon!”

“You did great.”

“Valedictorian, huh?”

Simmons shoves at Grif, “Oh my god, shut up! He just likes to say that." 

“Mhm, okay nerd.”

“Seriously!” Simmons can’t stop smiling.

“Yeah, uh huh. And can you inform me when the foods coming out, Mr. 4.0?”

It’s actually a 4.3 but Simmons is not about to correct him, “It should be out anytime now.”

Church sighs loudly next to Kai, “Is food all you ever think about?”

“Mmmmm,” Grif leans forwards, feigning deep thought, “Yeah, pretty much.”

There's a loud smack. “Ow, what the fuck??”

“That wasn’t very nice Leonard- I mean Church.”

“It wasn’t very nice to fucking hit me Michael.”

“Hmmmm,” the brunette points to the girl behind him, “but Kai hit you, not me. And my name is Caboose!”

“Kaikaina!”

“No one insults my dumbass brother but me." 

“I think you mean fatass.”

“Ah yes! Thank you, Simmons.”

“Oh, so he can insult him huh? I see how it is.’

The back and forth of the group goes on for a dozen more minutes, Grif groaning over how hungry, how starved, he was every three.

Tucker, Simmons learned, really likes dick jokes. A little too much if you were to ask him. He could make anything and everything into something worthy of a ‘bow-chica-bow-wow’ or ‘that’s what she said’. Kai seems to really enjoy them, as where everyone else appears to grovel at the floor anytime they even hear a ‘b’ sound out of Tucker’s mouth. Almost all of them fly over Caboose’s head, but Simmons can’t talk because a few soar over his own as well.

It’s later when Simmons finds out that Tucker’s love of dick goes way beyond just jokes.

“Woah, who is that.” When everyone looks up from their newly acquired food Simmons instantly recognizes the blonde hair and blue eyes. Brown roots are already on their way back in, his hair was completely blonde last week. Perhaps that’s for the best, Simmons always thought he looked better with brown hair.

“That’s Wash.”

“How do you know that?”

“I- I don’t..”

He sees Tucker deadpan, raising his eyebrows. Yeah, not one of his brightest replies. Now he looks like an idiot.

“I mean, I don’t really know h-him. He’s part of the companies project. It’s for smart people or whatever.” He takes a bite of his pasta to avoid explaining more.

“Well, he’s fucking hot,” Tucker sighs, “What I wouldn’t give to suck his dick.”

Pasta flies back onto his plate, his coughing fit watering his eyes. Isn’t Tucker the same age as him? Grif pats his shoulder, “Are you okay?”

He bows his head rapidly, grabbing onto the table for support. It dies down after a moment and Simmons finds 5 pairs of eyes turned straight at him, snickers rounding the table. He feels the warmth on his cheeks and he knows he’s probably red as a lobster. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“I’m gonna go talk to him.”

“What? Tucker no-" 

“It’s too late, I’m doing it.”

Everyone rushes after the boy, food long forgotten(except for the outcry of Grif). They stop in front of the short freckle-spotted kid with a crash, limbs everywhere. Wash has bags deep under his eyes, and a new red line running from a wrinkle in his forehead, through his eyebrow, to just above the crease of his eye. It looks like it’d hurt if he ran his fingertips over it.

“Oh, hey Simmons.” his voice is dreary, tired, barely reacting to the jumble of kids in front of him. 

“Hey, Wash-”

Kai cuts in just after he gets out the greeting, “Hii! I'm Kai, How old are you?”

“17.”

She nudges Tucker, a sly smirk shot his way. Grif just sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Simmons giggles, covering his mouth quickly. The sound draws the attention of the others.

Wash coughs, “Sorry.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “It seems you made some friends Simmons.”

Simmons doesn’t know how to reply, he opens his mouth, to say who knows what, but it comes out much higher pitched that he remembers.

“Hell yeah he did!!”

The arm that slings around his neck is a deeper in color than his, a warm brown. It draws him back into a solid weight that pushes against his shoulder blades. Kai.

He splutters, not only because of the implications of her words, but her boobs are now pressed into his mid back. He inches forward, not enough to remove her arm, but just she’s no longer plastered against him. Thankfully, she seems to understand, moving so she’s standing beside him, her arm simply resting on his shoulder.

Wash stretches out against the spine of his chair, a crack leading his reply. “That’s great! See, I told you people would like you if you just went out and spoke to them.”

Simmons ducks his head, “Yeah, I guess.” 

“Oh oh me!! I like Cider!!”

“Simmons.” This time it’s Church that corrects him.

“I like Simmons!!!”

Simmons reels back, knocking off Kai, “You do?”

“Of course!! We’re friends! Like me and Church! Well.. me and Church are SUPER best friends, but you could be my super best friend too!! Tucker said you're only allowed to have one of them, but I think you should be super best friends with anyone you want. Like crayons! I have lots of favourite colors and flavours, so why can’t I have a lot of favourite friends-“

“Caboose, calm down, breathe.” 

“I’m trying!!!! I’m just so excited!! AHhhhhh!”

Caboose stares at him with such an open intensity that it’s hard to not believe him, not that Simmons thinks he’s capable of lying about.. well anything really. He really views Simmons as a friend, and genuinely wants to be his super best friend.

“Davis Washington?” A man places his hand on the blond's shoulder. His voice is gruff and gravely. It stands out in the whisk of disembodied voices conversing around them. His arms are thick, visibly laced with hours and hours of training.

“It’s just Wash actually.”

“Mr. Washington if you could come with me.” 

Wash whips the hand off him, “What for?”

“Mr. Terracotta would like to see you now.”

Washes tired, relaxed expression was gone in an instant. His hostility to this man drained away. Cracks sparked the air as his back shot straight. His mouth shrank into a straight line, eyebrows pinching to a more stern position. His eyes lost their blue, a cloudy grey sinking into its place. 

The 17-year-old rises, feet together, arms at his side. “I’ll see you guys later.” He says, lacking its earlier fogginess.

The long-haired man smiles, “Have a nice day, kids.”

Simmons gapes as the pair exit. What the fuck just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 2876  
> Thank you for reading!!  
> Feedback is appreciated <3 
> 
> I don't really know if I like this chapter but here


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